From
Fake to Forever
by
Jennifer Shirk
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
GENRE:
Contemporary Romance
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
BLURB:
Sandra
Moyer’s preschool is struggling, so she reluctantly agrees to let
super-famous actor Ben Capshaw research a role there. Ben’s always
joking around, never serious, but there’s something about the
buttoned-up, beautiful Sandra and her young daughter that makes him
want to take life more seriously. But Sandra won’t trust him—what
if it’s all an act, research for the role? As the lines between
make-believe and reality blur, Ben will have to decide if love is
worth casting aside the role of his life for a new role…that could
last a lifetime.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Excerpt:
“C’mon,
Uncle Bens. I’m wide-open.”
Ben
Capshaw lowered his throwing arm and glared at his agent’s son,
Todd. “Will you stop calling me that?”
“But
you are my uncle Bens,” Todd said with a frown.
“Yeah,
I guess. But when you say it like that I feel like a side dish at a
Chinese restaurant.”
The boy
snickered. “I know.”
Ben
quickly raised the football again and pretended to whip it at him.
When Todd flailed his arms and ducked, Ben had his revenge. “Nice
move,” he called out with a laugh.
Todd
laughed, too. “Okay, c’mon, throw it for real this time. I’m
really ready.”
Ben
lobbed the football in the air and watched with budding
disappointment as it sailed right through Todd’s arms and bounced
on the ground. Ben shook his head. The kid obviously needed more
practice. “You almost had it,” he lied.
Todd
picked up the ball and ran it back to him. “You know, I’m so glad
you’re coming for dinner, Uncle Bens. Are you and my mom sure I
can’t tell anyone you’re here?”
Ben
looked up at the sky and sighed. A sigh that clearly said, if we go
through this one more time I’m going to find your entire stash of
Twinkies and eat them all without remorse. If the kid were a little
older, he’d understand that threat and let the question lie.
Instead, Todd continued to gaze up at him with big, hopeful brown
eyes.
“No,”
Ben told him firmly. “Not your BFF, not even your dog. No one. Got
it?”
Todd’s
young face looked crushed.
“Look,
it’s like I told you before, I don’t want the paparazzi buzzing
around here. I’m officially on vacation.”
“In
Wood Manor, New Jersey?”
“Hey,
the beach here is just as good as Los Angeles, and after a few days
I’ll drive up to New York City.” He loved New York in September.
He’d get a haircut and a shave, a massage, meet a few women.
Speaking
of meeting women…
Ben’s
gaze lingered again on the tasty-looking blonde sitting on the bench.
He’d been checking her out since he and Todd first arrived at the
park. Couldn’t help himself. He had a real thing for blondes, and
most—thank you, God—had a real thing for him.
“Hey,
Todd, why don’t we go to the slide over there?” Closer to that
blonde.
“No
way.”
He
turned to the boy in surprise. “Why not?”
“That
slide’s for babies.”
“No,
it’s not. Look, there’s an adult over there,” he said, pointing
the football toward the bench.
Todd
looked over and made a face. “You want to go talk to that woman,
don’t you?”
“Wh-what?”
Ben spluttered. “No, no. No way. Hey, stop listening to your mom
about me.” Besides, he didn’t want to talk to her, anyway.
“Flirt” was a better verb choice. He wanted to flirt with that
woman. There was a difference. Anyone could spew out words and just
talk. Flirting required talent, always used with the sole purpose of
letting the other person know you’re interested. And he was very
interested in her.
However,
as much as he was tempted to go over and introduce himself, he
wouldn’t. He didn’t want to risk his anonymity. But he didn’t
see the harm in getting a better look at an attractive woman. After
all, if he was in a museum, he’d certainly want to get closer to a
work of art, wouldn’t he? And from what he could tell, that woman
was a bona fide masterpiece.
She had
the kind of straight, shiny blond hair his fingers itched to feel and
run through, and a body that was slender in an athletic kind of
way—built more like a runner than a centerfold—and not at all
fake like most of the women in L.A. He was positive there was nothing
cosmetically enhanced on her. Not that she wore anything revealing to
bring that kind of attention to herself. Yet, dressed in sweatpants
and a Red Sox T-shirt, she’d managed to get his attention just the
same.
“Um,
Todd, are you sure you don’t want to go over there?” he asked
again, trying to rein in and saddle his raging testosterone.
Todd
took off running. “You have to catch me first,” he called out
with a laugh.
That
little bugger. Ben dropped the football and ran after him. Todd was
fast, weaving his way around the wooden maze of forts and playground
equipment and then disappearing from his sight. Ben climbed up the
rope to the wooden platform and scanned the area. From the corner of
his eye, he caught sight of Todd ducking into a tube slide. Ha!
Gotcha now, kid. He ran over and climbed into a slide himself, hoping
to catch him by surprise.
The only
problem was he didn’t slide down.
He began
to twist, realizing his shoulders were wedged in tight. With one arm
pinned down and the other arm up, he tried shifting his hips to
wiggle back up. That didn’t work, either. Okay, he wasn’t sure
how he’d managed this strange, bizarre feat, but he needed some
help.
Crap. He
could see the headline now: “Career Not Only Thing Going Down
Tubes.” Oh, man, his agent and publicist would have his head on a
platter if that happened. He’d be lucky to get local theater work
after that. Served him right for showing off and acting like a
ten-year-old instead of the thirty-four-year-old he was.
Where
the hell is Todd?
Ben
heard movement above him. Thank goodness. He looked up, ready to ream
Todd out for leaving him hanging so long. But he clamped his lips
shut when he stared directly into the face of a cherubic little girl
instead.
“Excuse
me. Now it my turn,” she said in a tiny voice.
“Uh…well,
you have to wait. See, I can’t move right now.”
She
frowned. “But I said excuse me.”
“Yeah,
I know, but—”
Her
little face puckered and those big blue eyes filled with tears, which
set the alarm bells ringing. No, no, please. I beg you! Oh, man, the
kid was going to cry on him.
Where
the hell is Todd!
The
little girl did begin to cry—not with the loud, obnoxious wailing
he half expected, but with a quiet, trembling frown and dime-size
tears that fell like an H5 hailstorm. It made him want to break down
and cry, too. He didn’t need this right now—stuck as he
was—especially since he had no clue how to convey he was telling
the truth to such a young child. About to send out a verbal SOS to
Todd, he saw the blonde from the bench spring out before him.
Thank
you, God. Maybe it wasn’t exactly how he wanted to meet this woman,
but at least she would understand the situation, and he could finally
get some help. But when he gazed up into the woman’s ready-to-kill
eyes, he doubted very much that the cavalry had arrived.
“What
did you do to my daughter?” she accused in that stern
mother-cub-protecting-her-baby voice.
Oh,
great. Her daughter. More bad PR. Now they were going to add child
abuse to the headline. “Nothing,” he insisted. “Honest. Look,
she just wants to go down the slide.”
The
blonde folded her arms. “Well, let her, then.”
The
woman’s demand gave him pause. Okay, she obviously didn’t
understand his predicament any better than her kid had. “I…uh…can’t,”
he said with a sheepish grin. “I’m kind of stuck. Maybe a little
help?” He waved his one free arm, but she looked at it as though it
were covered with warts.
“Maybe
I should call the police for help instead,” she said, drawing her
daughter to her side.
“No
police!”
The
woman flinched from his outburst. He didn’t mean to freak out on
her, but the police equaled the press in his book. Then bad
headlines. Then unhappy agent. Then less work. The list went on.
He
cleared his throat. “No police, please,” he repeated more calmly.
“In fact, don’t call anyone.”
An odd
expression—somewhere between nausea and hysteria—crossed her
pretty features, and she grabbed her daughter’s hand. “Let’s
go.”
Go? Go
where? He watched in disbelief as the woman began to lead her
daughter away. Did she think he was faking it? Didn’t she recognize
him? The woman was actually turning her back on him.
“Wait!”
he shouted. “I’m not kidding! Come back! What about me?”
His
complaints and shouts didn’t even register on her radar. The woman
had to have heard him—heck, upstate New York had to have heard
him—but she didn’t turn around. Didn’t so much as pause. In
fact, she picked up her little girl and ran.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
AUTHOR
Bio and Links:
Jennifer
Shirk has a bachelor degree in pharmacy-which has in NO WAY at all
helped her with her writing career. But she likes to point it out,
since it shows romantic-at-hearts come in all shapes, sizes, and
mind-numbing educations.
She
writes sweet (and sometimes even funny) romances for Samhain
Publishing, Avalon Books/Montlake Romance and now Entangled
Publishing. She won third place in the RWA 2006 NYC's Kathryn Hayes
Love and Laughter Contest with her first book, THE ROLE OF A
LIFETIME. Recently, her novel SUNNY DAYS FOR SAM won the 2013 Golden
Quill Published Authors Contest for Best Traditional Romance.
Lately
she's been on a serious exercise kick. But don't hold that against
her.
No comments:
Post a Comment